


The Pack Survives

by Jking98



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Major Character Injury, Robert's Rebellion, Tourney at Harrenhal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-27 08:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13877073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jking98/pseuds/Jking98
Summary: "When the snows fall and the white winds blows, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."Lord Rickard Stark sent his children to the great tourney of Harrenhal for his Southron ambitions, but what happens at the tourney sets in motion a chain of events that will reshape all of Westeros.





	1. Lyanna I

Lyanna 281 AC

She could hear the ring of metal clashing as she rode through the Winterfell’s eastern gate. Lyanna gave a slight pull of the reigns and her mare slowed to a stop at the edge of the courtyard. Lyanna’s oldest brother, Brandon, was sparring with the master-at-arms Ser Rodrik Cassel. The two men were hammering away at each other with blunted practice swords in the center of the courtyard while the Benjen, the youngest Stark, looked on with keen interest off to the side along with the simpleton Hodor. 

The two men seemed to be in a dead heat with a slight edge going Brandon who used his superior strength to push Rodrik back. The more experienced Rodrik would not be defeated that easily, as he sidestepped a thrust of Brandon's sword and quickly responded with an overhead slash which Brandon deflected with his shield leaving Rodrik off balance. Brandon quickly followed up with a slash that he stopped just short of connecting with Rodrick’s neck.

“I yield,” the older knight grumbled in exasperation.

“You're getting slow and predictable I your old age,” ribbed the young heir. “If you want I can teach you a thing or two after You're done with Benjen.”

“Anymore lip from you and I'll have too actually try next time we spar.” Brandon laughed in response as on only needed to look at the knight’s sweat stained shirt to see that claim was a lie.

With the sun beginning to set and the fight over, the impromptu crowd of Winterfell residents that had gathered to spectate began to disperse. Lyanna dismounted and walked over to Hodor.

“Willas, would you bring Dancer to the stables and make sure she is taken care of.” Lyanna asked as she handed of her mares reigns to the giant stablehand.

“Hodor,” the groom responded cheerfully as he took the reigns and headed for the stables.  
She turned back to her younger brother who was heading towards the hall. She quickened her pace to catch up to Benjen who greeted her with a nod then asked “Does father know you were out riding in the Wolfswood without any of the guards?”

Lyanna turned her nose up and looked away, “What father does not know will not hurt him,” came her impetuous response. “Besides, who is to say that I was even in the Wolfswood when I went riding?”

Benjen smirked “I saw you, from maester Walys’s tower during my lessons this afternoon, which happens to overlook the eastern gate.” Lyanna suppressed a groan as she knew that Benjen would love to hold this over her.

“What is it that you want now Benjen?” she sighed

“Nothing just know that you owe me one, It is always good to have a favour in your pocket,” was Benjen’s sly response. Just then a guard opened the door and the two bickering sibling entered the great hall. They headed to the head table where Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra were already seated. Seeing the two approaching their father greeted them with a smile.

“What is it you two have been up to all day, and where is Brandon at” Lyanna looked at Benjen nervously as he began to respond.

“Lyanna and I were riding out on the Moors today after our lesson,” he lied smoothly, “and Brandon is washing up before supper he just got done sparring with Ser Rodrik.” Benjen sat on the other side of their parents, leaned forward and mouthed ‘you owe me’ with a wink. The two began to dish up some of their food as their parents talked to maester Walys who had entered the great hall shortly after the two Stark children. Lyanna listened for a bit but quickly grew tired of all the talks of marriages and alliances being made in the south. The topic brought her to dark thoughts about her own future as the promised bride of the heir to Storm’s end. She envied her brothers Ned and Benjen who as second and third sons did not have as much worth in regards to political marriage. Lyanna and Brandon were both already promised to another in order for political gain, Lyanna to a man she had never met before. While Robert Baratheon was a close friend, in fact almost a brother, to Ned she still could not shake the apprehension at the match.

Lyanna had been told by her father two moons ago that she was promised to Ned’s foster brother. She had soon after sent a raven to her brother in the Eyrie asking about the man he had grown up with. In the letters that her brother sent it was clear that he loved Robert as a brother and thought him a good man. Ned’s description of Robert reminded her a lot of her wolf-blooded oldest brother Brandon, them both being the confident extroverted heirs to one of the seven kingdoms. The comparison had caused some fears as she thought of Barbrey Ryswell who her brother had and affair with when he was being fostered in Barrowton. While Ned was too honorable to trade in gosip he could not let his younger sister enter a marriage and be blindsided by Robert’s past. So when she asked Ned about these fears he came clean to her telling Lyanna of the bastard that Robert had sired in the Vale. Lyanna had been perturbed by her Ned’s letter. Lyanna had gone to her mother earlier in the day with her fears about her future spouse. While her mother was sympathetic to her plight she told her that as a daughter of a great house it was her duty to marry for honor rather than love and she should enter the marriage with an open heart and mind so as to try and make the best of the situation that she was in.

Lyarra’s advice was not enough to assuage Lyanna’s doubts about the betrothal which was the reason that she had gone out riding in the Wolfswood that day rather than going to lessons with her brother. Riding with Dancer made her feel free. Rickard and Lyarra both hated her going out riding alone without anyone else, but the young girl loved the solitude of the windswept moors and the quiet among the evergreens in the Wolfswood. Lyanna was daydreaming about such things when Brandon took the seat next to her and her father stood up at the head of the table and cleared his throat to get his children’s attention. “I have news from your brother,” Rockar started. “As he is almost 18 and a man grown now he will be leaving his foster home of the Eyrie.” The Stark children widened their eyes in surprise and excitement at the news as it had been almost two years since the last time any of them had seen their brother.

“When is he to be expected back in Winterfell?” Benjen interjected excitedly.

“That brings me to the second piece of news,” Rickard paused before continuing. “He will not be returning home, rather he will be going to Walter Whent’s Tourney at Harrenhal. It is to be quite grand with competitions in just about every feat, and the largest purses ever seen for the champions. A great opportunity to meet and make connections with some of the great houses of the south. As such I have decided to go myself and I will be taking Brandon and Lyanna with me. We will leave in a weeks time.”

“But Father!” Benjen Cried out in anger, “ Why am I to be left behind?”

“Because as I have told all of you on multiple occasions there must always be a Stark in Winterfell”

“Why must the Stark in Winterfell be me, why not Benjen or Lyanna?”

“Because Brandon is my heir and as such it is most important that he become well acquainted with the lord’s and lady’s of the south, and Lyanna must go because it is time for her to be presented to her betrothed Robert Baratheon.”

Lyanna’s face paled slightly at the news, she did not feel ready to be introduced to her betrothed. The idea of it just made the whole situation seem even more real. Soon enough she was going to be sent south to marry Robert and the north would no longer be her home. No longer would she ride Dancer on the moors and be able to see for miles in any direction, or accompany her brother’s on a hunt in the Wolfswood.

“This is not fair I’m getting the short end of this deal simply because I’m the third son, I’m simply a spare in case something happens to my brothers.” Benjen all but shouted at his father.

“That is enough Benjen, your outburst only proves that you are to immature to let you represent House Stark to other noble houses” Her father shouted back angrily. Lyanna felt sorry for her Benjen yet she was also jealous of him, being the third son meant that while he may not be their father’s heir he had much more control over his future than either Brandon or Lyanna. Given her current situation she would gladly trade positions with Benjen simply for the freedom of choice that had been denied to her in regards to her future.

Benjen angrily got up from the table and left the great hall. Her father angrily dismissed both Brandon and Lyanna soon after. Brandon turned to Lyanna beaming, “Are you not excited for this tourney sister? Mayhaps I should try my hand in the melee show those southern boys how a man of the north fights. And Imagine all the ladies that shall be there ripe for the taking,” he added the last bit with a wink.

Lyanna rolled her eyes at her brothers antics. “Neither of your interests are really something that would interest me Brandon. I have no interest in chasing girls, nor would I be able to try my hand in the melee.”

“There is no call for you to be melancholy, what about the great feasts in the hall of a hundred hearths, or all the mummers acts that a sure to be there you cannot tell me that you will not enjoy all of that?”

“It is not the tourney that I will not enjoy,” Lyanna let out with a sigh, “but rather the introductions to my betrothed, it won’t be long until I go south to marry him and I will never call Winterfell, or even the north home again. When Benjen was complaining about his position as the third son I wanted tell that I would gladly trade places with him just for the freedom to choose his own destiny.”

Brandon’s countenance became more serious as rubbed his beard, “I will not deny that I have often entertained the thought of what I would do if I had the option to choose my own way in life, but that is not the way of life for the children of lords and ladies. Fighting against our destinies in life will only lead to tragedy sweet sister.”

“I think it would be more of a tragedy to live your whole life as merely a piece of driftwood in a river, never making a decision for your own,” Lyanna retorted in a haughty voice. “I would rather die than to live a life like that.”

Brandon responded placatingly, “That is not what I’m saying Lyanna I am merely saying if you spend your life fighting losing battles rather than trying to make the best of your situation is recipe for a bitter unhappy life. You have never even met Robert. If you go into the marriage already hating it for taking you away from the north then how can you ever be happy. You are going to marry Robert, Lyanna. Why not at least to try to be happy with it.” With those parting words Brandon left Lyanna in the courtyard to think about what he had said.

Lyanna was awoken by the frantic knocking on her door “Coming!” she called out as she quickly got dressed. The knocking continued incessantly. When she finally was dressed she opened the door was almost hit by Benjen’s fist as he was about to knock on the again.

“What is it that you could possibly need this badly that you had to wake me this early in morn?” Lyanna angrily asked

“You owe me from yesterday do you not?”

Lyanna groaned, “What is it that you want then?” praying that it would not be something to troubling to do, but judging from the grin growing on Benjen’s face she knew that was not be.

“You’re going to convince father to let me go to Harrenhal,” Benjen said quickly as if afraid that Lyanna would stop him before he could get it all out. “Please Lyanna,” he pleaded as she rolled her eyes and walked past him.

“I do not even want to go Benjen, but father wants Brandon and me to go for reasons he has already explained. That leaves you as the only one without a reason for going to Harrenhal besides wanting to, and you know as well as I that he will not leave Winterfell without a Stark in it.” 

“I know that Lyanna but why not have father be the one to stay behind,” Lyanna stopped and thought about what Benjen was saying.

“That idea might have persuaded father yesterday, but with your outburst I doubt that he would be as willing to let you go.”

“So I’ll apologize to father.” 

“He will see right away that you are simply apologizing so that father will let you go to Harrenhal,” Lyanna said matter of factly ending the conversation she turned and started to walk away. Benjen quickly caught up however.

“That’s why I need you to be the one to ask father. If I ask it makes my apology look insincere, however if you ask then father will not see anything wrong with my apology,” he layed out to her.

“But you asked me to ask on your behalf so your apology is still insincere Ben,” she retorted.

Benjen smirked and said, “What father does not know will not hurt him.” Lyanna rolled her eyes at Benjen using her words against her.

“Fine you go and apologize to father and I will ask him to let you go to the tourney with Brandon and me later today.” Benjen smiled in triumph and immediately headed to their fathers solar to apologize. Lyanna left to meet with her mother. She found her mother sitting by a hearth doing needlework. When Lyarra saw her daughter enter the room she smiled and motioned for Lyanna to sit in the chair next to her. Lyanna did so and picked up her own needlework that she had left in the room when she had left to go for a ride yesterday. While Lyanna much preferred to be out on the Moors with Dancer, but she still enjoyed doing needlework with her mother it was time that was just the two of them. The two of them worked in companionable silence for almost an hour before Lyarra broke the silence.

“You were pretty quiet yesterday after your father told you about the tourney,” her mother said with a knowing look.

Lyanna set her needlework down before responding, “It was just sudden. I do not know if I am ready to leave Winterfell mother. The next time I leave Winterfell I may never see it again, I am a Stark I belong in the North.”

“Lyanna you are a Stark and as such you have a duty to this house. We all have our roles the sons are leaders and warriors, while daughters strengthen their house through marriage. It is a role than can sometimes be harder to bare than that of the sons, however ladies bare it every day Lyanna so must you. Trust me on this though your father would not have promised you to Robert if he did not think that you could be happy.”

“I know you are right mother but I know that I would trade it all for piece of the freedom that Benjen has.” With that Lyanna put her needwork to the side and stood up.

“Where are you going?” her mother questioned.

“I need to go speak with father on something.” Lyanna left the room and headed for her father’s solar. Her conversation with her mother still weighing on her mind. Lyanna knew her mother was right about it all but it did not change the fact that it all made her feel like livestock being traded for favors.

Lyanna Reached her father’s solar and knocked. “Come in,” came her father’s response. As Lyanna walked through the door her father looked up from the letter he was writing and smiled at her. “Ah Lyanna, what brings you in here?” Rickard queried.

“Father I was wondering if instead of you accompanying Brandon and I that perhaps Benjen could accompany both Brandon and me to Harrenhal.”

Her father smiled, “I’m afraid you’re too late Lyanna, your brother already convinced me to let Benjen go.”

Lyanna was surprised by this, “What Benjen changed your mind?”

“No Brandon did,” her father responded, “He came in here a little while ago and claimed that if I were to go with him the other lords would just see him as my heir, rather than the future warden of the north. He also told me that there would be no better chance for Benjen to find a wife for himself, perhaps even an eldest daughter of an heirless lord.”

“Very well Father may I be excused?” 

“Yes go on.” Lyanna was suspicious of her eldest brother as she left her father’s solar, so she went to go and find Brandon. She found him leaving the kitchens after grabbing something for his midday meal.

She walked over to him and asked, “Why did you convince father to let Benjen go to the tourney with the both of us?”

Brandon grinned at Lyanna, “I was just being a good older brother.”

“Why do I not believe that is the whole story? You thought it out before going to see father, and I know that Benjen did not ask you. If I had to guess you did it so that father would not go with us so you could go the tourney without having father disapprove of some of your less noble actions.”

“You do have a sharp mind dearest sister, but you are not going to tell father are you?” Brandon half begged his sister.

“No because this gets me even with Benjen.” Brandon beamed at Lyanna and turned to walk away, but was stopped by Lyanna’s parting comment. “Besides you are forgetting that we will be meeting Ned at Harrenhal,” Lyanna laughed at the smile that slowly disappeared from Brandon’s face.


	2. Eddard I

Eddard 281 AC

The Portcullis was lowered with a clang behind the two foster brothers as they passed by the Bloody Gate on their way to Harrenhal. Robert Baratheon the heir to Storm’s End urged his destrier forward to draw level to Eddard Stark; the man than that he considered his brother in all but blood, and soon enough would be by law. He whistled a tune as he rode beside the quiet wolf who lived up to his name. Robert grew tired of his friends lack of conversation, “Gods Ned have you taken a vow of silence or is there actually a reason for your being this quiet.”

Ned raised an eyebrow at his friend in surprise at his sudden outburst, “I am paying attention to our surroundings Robert, I would quite like it if we were able to make it out of the Vale without having my head bludgeoned in by one of the mountain tribes.” He made a mock bow before continuing, “That is if all of that is acceptable with you my Lord”

Ned’s sarcasm elicited a bark of laughter from Robert. “It is about time you start showing me proper deference after all you are talking to the future lord of Storm’s End, the son of Steffon Baratheon,” Robert orated with mock airs of superiority. In a more serious tone he continued, “We could only be so lucky as to run into some of the mountain tribesmen on our way out of the Vale though, it would be nice for a little warm up before we make it to Harrenhal.” Robert took an underhanded swing with his great warhammer to emphasize his point.

“Why is it that whenever the two of us are out on the road you seem almost hopeful that we’ll run into bandits or mountain tribesman or some other group wishing to do us harm?” Ned asked bewilderedly. How could two men raised together for half of their lives still manage to be such polar opposites he wondered to himself.

“That is because I sincerely desire for someone to attack us when we are out on the road. Travelling is such a boring affair Ned, nothing to drink and even less to screw,” Robert exclaimed in exasperation. “Being attacked by bandits might make the whole ordeal pass by quicker. I am telling you Ned I was born at the wrong time. I was built for war yet the seven kingdoms have been at peace my entire life. It is all a cruel joke by the seven. Perhaps your gods would be more merciful.” 

“I would hardly consider it a mercy for the gods to start a war Robert,” was Ned’s reply. “but maybe you should row to the Isle of faces and ask the old gods for your war after the tourney is over.” 

Robert rubbed his chin ponderously, “That just might worked,” but his facade of seriousness cracked and the young heir burst into laughter slapping his friends back as they rode along the high road.

 

Despite Robert’s wishes the pair reached the crossroads inn without ever encountering mountain tribesmen. Ned went into the inn and sat down at a table. Some ale was brought to him by a serving girl. He stopped her before she could walk away, “Which lords or ladies of note have passed through here on the way to Harrenhal?” Ned asked the girl.

“We've had quite a few mi’lord Yohn Royce passed through her three days ago as well as some from house Redfort rode with him. Two days ago lord Hoster Tully rode by with both his daughters. Some Blackwoods and some Bracken's stayed here that night I remember because we almost had to throw them out after a fight. And some Lannisters arrived here just short bit before you.”

“Is that all that have passed through here? None from the North?” he questioned.

“None from the North mi’lord, but we’ve had people come through from most every house in the Riverlands and Westerlands excepting the Reynes and the Tarbecks,” the serving girl said matter-of-factly.”Don’t believe me just look around.” The main hall of the in was crowded from all the lords, ladies, hedge knights, and men-at-arms travelling to Harrenhal. Ned thanked the girl and tipped her a few copper stars for her help. She tipped her head in thanks and went back to serving the patrons. 

Ned decided he had best get to reserving a room before there were none left. Ned managed to get the attention of the owner of the inn. When he asked for a room for two nights almost spit out the ale at the price. Due to all the traffic on the roads from people heading to the tourney the landlady had jacked up the prices to five dragons a night, and they were down to only two rooms left. Ned payed the owner for two nights. He would have suggested to Robert that they should just grab some food and ale then camp nearby for the night before continuing on in the morning, however they were supposed to be meeting his siblings there. Robert soon walked in after handing off the horses to the inn’s groom and sat down next calling for a horn of ale to be brought to him. 

“So are the rest of the Stark's here yet Ned?” The tall man asked as he grabbed the horn offered to him by a serving girl, and drank deeply from it.

Ned shook his head, “No not yet, I asked if they had when around when I first came in.”

Robert lowered the horn he had been drinking from, “Are you sure they have not already been here and moved on to Harrenhal ahead of us. They did leave a full fortnight before we did.”

“Yes but they are bringing a large party of men-at-arms and members of our household with them, and they have almost five times the distance to travel due to the vastness of the North,” Ned replied. “They should arrive sometime within the next two days.”

“Well then how shall we pass the next two days,” Robert feigned being deep in thought. Ned laughed at his best friends antics. “Ah! I have got it Ned, we will drink, drink, then drink some more.” Robert motioned for the serving girl to bring the two of them more ale. When the serving girl returned Robert took both horns from her before handing one to Ned, “Drink up my future good-brother tonight we make up for those dry nights we spent out on the road.” The two hit their horns together before all but pouring it's contents down their throats.

 

After a few hours the two noble sons were well and drunk. While Ned had not been going drink for drink with his large foster brother he had still lost count of his own drinks after his ninth and it had certainly not been his last.

Both friends were drinking and making merry when musician in the corner started playing the Rains of Castamere at the behest of a few Lannister men-at-arms. Robert slammed his fist and stumbled to his feet. Ned sensing the trouble about to happen quickly got to his feet and followed after Robert trying to stop him from starting anything with the Lannister men. 

“You Lannisters seem to think you are a real tough bunch... murdering women children in their own home” Robert said in halting speech while trying to think through the fog in his head. Five Lannister man stood up in response to the insult. Ned groaned as he already knew it was too late to stop the fight from breaking out. He looked around, and seeing the landlord looking on worriedly, thought clearly for a second and realized that if he and Robert wanted to sleep in a real bed for the next night they should take the fighting outside.

Ned with the help of a hedge knight convinced and then corralled the Lannister men and Robert outside. They were barely through the door when the de facto leader of the Lannister group threw a punch that hit Robert in the face. Robert chuckled, spat out some blood, then punched the man back dropping him in the dirt. Robert turned to Ned with a bloody grin. “Well it looks like I will get that warm up after all.” Then seven hells broke loose as Ned and Robert took on the four remaining men. Normally Ned would abhor this kind of behavior, but in his inebriated state all he could feel was the rush of adrenaline as he and Robert fought with the drunken men.

Ned was fighting with one of the men and more than holding his own. He looked over at Robert who was laughing like a berserker while he took on the remaining three. Ned’s focus was returned to the man he was fighting when he had his air knocked out of him by a blow to the gut. He responded by grabbing the other man and grappling with the other man. Once he had the man in a bear hug he squeezed the man before tossing him to the ground were he began to pummel the man. Ned was dragged off by the man who had been knocked down by Robert’s first punch. Ned elbowed the man to get free then tackled the man in two the dirt where they fought throwing puches back and forth at each other.

Eventually they all tired out. Their drunken stupor wearing off as well as the adrenaline fading away. Making the men tired and sore. Robert grunted as he got up and stumbled back inside the inn. He came out a minute later with seven horns of ale. He handed one to Ned then one to each of the Lannister men. As a gesture of no hard feelings. After a few more rounds Robert was back inside with the Lannister men singing bawdy song together like The Bear and the Maiden Fair, Ned sat off to the side marvelling at his friend. Just a short while ago Robert had been outside scuffling with those men yet something about him made it so he was able to share a camaraderie with former enemies. Ned thought back to what Robert had said earlier about how he was made for war and couldn't help but agree. The natural battlefield charisma made him a man that almost any would follow, and that is leaving out his shear size and prowess in battle.

Ned shook his head to clear it of his ponderings. He stood up slowly grabbing the chair for support before beginning his slow shambling walk towards the stairs. Robert called out to him trying to get Ned to stay and drink some more with them. Ned shook his head and waved them off. He already knew that he wouldn't be able to keep anything down tomorrow morning, or even see straight for that matter. He knew that at this point each drink from here on out would only delay the inevitable. Instead he made his way to his and Robert’s room. Ned got into the room and soon collapsed face first on the bed only half undressed as he faded off.

 

The light pouring in from the window woke Ned up the next morning. When he opened his eyes he gave a stlight grunt in pain, the pounding in his head felt like a drum that someone was beating on with Robert's warhammer. His tongue was so swollen and dry he felt as if he could hardly breathe. He got out of bed in search for a pitcher of water, but almost tripped over the large form sprawled out on the floor. Robert had passed out on the floor of their room in a state of undress except his small clothes, and had a spilt horn of ale next to one of his hands. Ned shuffled over to a table that had a pitcher of water and two cups on it. After gulping down a cup of the water he filled another one walked over to his snoring friend and dumped it on him.

“Seven hells!” the man sat up quickly only to wince and grab his head. He turned to his oldest friend with a pitiable look, “Now why did you have to go and do that. I was blissfully unconscious, now I have a ringing head and I am sopping wet.”

“Turnabout is fair play Robert. You are the reason I am so hungover I only thought it fair that you join me in my suffering.” Ned grinned as Robert stood up winced again and grab his head. He shuffled over to to table, grabbed the pitcher and began drinking large quaffs straight from it.

Robert turned a bloodshot eye towards his friend, “This is going to be a rough day.”

 

By supper time they were both feeling well enough to go down for dinner in the inn's dining hall. Ned turned down the horn of ale offered to him by the serving with a dirty look. It would be a while before he would spend a night drinking like that again. They sat eating the tough mutton and potatoes that had been all been drowned in gravy. The sound of a large party arriving interrupted their dinner. Soon after a tall man with a beard and long brown hair walked in the door.

“Ned!” Brandon cried out in excitement at seeing his brother for the first time in more than a year. Ned got up to greet his brother followed closely by Robert. Brandon grabbed Ned and brought him into a bone crushing hug. “Gods Ned you are almost as tall as me. You are man grown now. Come now, grab some drinks for us to celebrate our reunion.”

Ned’s face paled slightly as he shook his head, “I would really rather not.”

The wild wolf looked offended, “what are you to good to drink with your own brother?” he asked incredulously.

“No not at all!” Ned quickly replied. “I’m just really in no mood to drink after my last night.” Before Brandon could inquire about the previous night Ned's two younger siblings walked into the inn. Once they spotted Ned Lyanna and Benjen both ran to greet him. Ned hugged his younger sister and ruffled benjen’s hair before pulling back, “Lyanna, I would like to introduce you to my foster brother and closest friend Robert Baratheon.”

Lyanna became uncharacteristically quiet and bashful. “It is a pleasure to meet you my lord,” she said in her most courtly manner.

“Please, there is no need for such formality from my betrothed, or from any member of Ned’s family for that matter. You may all call me Robert.” Lyanna smiled and the kind gesture.

Ned noticed a short man walking over to their group. The man had mud colored hair and moss green eyes, clearly a crannogmen. However it was the silver lion lizard clasp on his cloak that gave his identity away. “You must be Howland Reed, i heard you would be travelling with my siblings. I am Ned Stark. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine my lord. I am quite lucky to be accompanying my liege lord's family to this tourney.” The Man said with a slight bow.

Ned, being uncomfortable with the man’s deference, waved off the bow, “There is no need for any of that please just call me Ned, and this great oaf beside me is my foster brother and friend Robert Baratheon.”

“Thank you Ned, and it is a pleasure to meet you Robert.”

“Pleasure,” Robert said reaching a hand out in greeting. “Howland, was it?” The shorter man nodded “I've never met a crannogmen before. Why don't we go get us a drink and you can tell me about fighting lion lizards while the Stark's get reacquainted.” Robert threw his arm over Howland’s shoulder and led him to a table calling for two flagons of mead.

Brandon let out a bark of laughter, “Those two sure make an odd pair.” Ned chuckled and had to agree. Staring at the two walking away Howland was only up to mid chest on the towering Robert.

“We should get a table,” Ned led them to an empty one at the back of the hall. “It has been so long since I have seen you all,” turning towards Benjen, “what happened to you, you were a stick of a boy when I last visited home, and you Lyanna you have grown into such a beautiful lady. I half expected the wild haired little girl who would run off from her lessons to go riding on the moors to come through the door.”

“She still does run off from her lessons to go riding,” Benjen interjected before Lyanna could retort. Lyanna shot him a haughty look for the comment before turning back to Ned with a smile.

“You are one to talk Ned. You look a man now with that beard you are growing, I think it is thicker than Brandon’s,” Lyanna said taking a teasing shot at her oldest brother.

“Nonsense, Do not listen to her flattery Ned. That wispy bit of fur on your face does not convince me. You still look half a babe to me,” the wild wolf laughed boisterously at his own joke. Ned blushed slightly at all the attention from his siblings.

“Leave him alone Brandon. Some brother you are. The first time see your brother in a year and you feel the need to embarrass him,” Lyanna interjected on Ned’s behalf.

Ned laughed at how protective his younger sister was being, “Thank you for the valiant defense Lyanna, but I can handle a little good natured ribbing from my brother.”

“Yeah Lyanna, Ned is a man he does not need a girl to save him, much less his younger sister,” Benjen said mockingly.

“Tough words from the boy who cannot out duel his own sister,” Lyanna bit back venomously.

Brandon clamped a hand over Benjen’s mouth before he could retort. “That is enough you two. Your behavior is embarrassing Ned and I, Benjen I suggest you head up to our room and get some rest it is late at we leave for the tourney at first light tomorrow.” Benjen was about to respond when Brandon silenced him with a sharp look.

“Fine,” The young wolf grumbled as he got to his feet and headed towards the stairs.

“Now that you have sent the child to bed shall we have some wine?” Lyanna remarked with a smirk.

“I think it would be best if you were to get some rest too we are leaving early tomorrow,” was Brandon’s response.

Lyanna scoffed at Brandon, “I am a woman grown, you cannot just send me to bed like a troublesome child. I will not have it.”

“You saw me do just that with Benjen, and he is but a year younger than you. Are you forgetting that father placed me in charge of you and Benjen?” Brandon countered.

Lyanna turned to Ned to see if he would take her side in the argument. Ned raised his eyebrows and shrugged as if to say 'what is it you expect me to do.’ Lyanna haughtily turned her nose up at Brandon, “I think I shall retire, not because you commanded it, but rather because I find the company here rather lacking.”

As Lyanna left them Brandon sighed and rubbed his temples. Ned laughed at his brother's misery, “You will spend so much time trying to keep her out of trouble at the tourney you may not get into any yourself.”

“And coming here I thought that you would be the one barring me from my misdeeds, come to find out it will be me acting as a mother hen to Benjen and Lyanna,” Benjen threw his arms up in exasperation. “I truly pity your friend Robert, he does not know what he has is got himself into.”

Ned looked over to we're Robert was drinking and listening intently to Howland’s tales of life in the Neck. “Yes indeed, if ever there was a woman who could tame that man it would be our Lyanna.”

“Ahh! All this talk of Lyanna is making my head hurt I need a drink.” Brandon signalled a serving girl over, “Two cups of wine,” he requested. 

Ned shook his head, “I really cannot drink Brandon.”

Brandon’s eyebrows raised incredulously,“Do you mean to say you do not drink at all now? That will not go over well in the North. I can already see the Greatjon questioning your manhood.”

Ned laughed at his brother's antics, “No not that, I just had far too much to drink last night is all. I have never been so hungover as I was this morning, I barely had the strength to get out of my bed in the morning.”

At hearing this Brandon roared in laughter, “Who would have thought, my brother Ned, too hungover to get out of bed in the morning. It seems as if you did learn a few worthwhile things in those mountains. Robert has been a good influence on you, now if only he had taught you to appreciate the fairer sex.” Brandon grinned wolfishly at his wit.

A blushing Ned shook his head in response, “I think I shall avoid dishonoring my future wife whoever that might be.” 

“Well regardless of all that just one cup of wine will not hurt you,” Brandon argued.

Ned acquiesced to his elder and took a sip of the wine that had been placed before him. “On the subject of future wives I heard tell of Hoster Tully passing through here just before Robert and I arrived. It would seem he has brought both of his daughters to the tourney.” He watched his brother from over his cup as he took another sip of the wine.

Brandon had a melancholy look while he stroked his chin hairs, “It would seem the gods have determined to play a cruel trick on poor me. Between the presence of Catelyn, and having to watch over Lyanna it seems I will have to act the perfect little lord with no time for the usual debauchery.”

Ned burst into laughter at his brother's self pity, “I’ll drink to that.”


	3. Brandon I

Brandon

The wild wolf climbed into his saddle and spurred his horse south. The Stark's and their entourage were heading south down the kingsroad from the Inn. The sun was just starting to rise as they headed out. Brandon had made sure they had gotten on the road early as they still had half a week's worth of riding before they were to arrive at Harrenhal. Brandon did not mind all the riding however. While he was being fostered in Barrowton under the supervision of Lord Dustin, Brandon and Willam Dustin would spend their time riding in the Rills whenever they had the chance. Brandon often thought back to those times longingly. Back before he had been summoned back to Winterfell to begin training to one day be the Lord of Winterfell, back when he had been free to do what he pleased take what he pleased without worrying about how it all affected his house.

Brandon looked over at Ned who was riding a few feet to his left. He often thought that the gods had made a mistake when they had made him the older brother. Ned would make a much better Lord of Winterfell than he would. Ned was patient, and much more honorable than Brandon. There would be no banor man with a grudge against Ned for taking their daughter’s maidenhead. 

He thought back to the tale Torrhen Stark, the king who knelt, and his bastard brother Brandon Snow. Torrhen Stark had led the Northern army south to confront Aegon. Northern army had reached the shores of the trident, they saw an army half again their size with three dragons as well. Many northerners still wanted to fight rather than bend the knee to these foreign invaders. Chief among these men was Brandon Snow who offered to sneak across the river at knight and kill the dragons. Torrhen did not allow him knowing that even attempting to do so would anger the Targaryen’s, leaving the Stark's to a similar fate as house Gardener of the reach. Brandon often saw Ned and he as Torrhen Stark and Brandon Snow, born again. Brandon being the hot blooded warrior and Ned being the wise leader able to humble himself for the betterment of his people. 

Brandon Snow needed Torrhen, just as Brandon Stark needed Eddard Stark. If he were to be a capable leader he would need his brother by his side along the way. He hoped that Ned knew that despite being the second son there would always be a place for him at Winterfell. If Brandon were to be a good leader then he would need his brother's help.

He was brought out of his reveries by his younger brother who had spurred his palfrey to draw level with Bradon’s. “How far out are we from Harrenhal?” the youngest Stark brother inquired.

“We should reach the road that heads west to Harrenhal around nightfall. From there it should take us another two days to reach Harrenhal.”

Benjen furrowed his brow, “When does the tourney begin?” the boy asked worriedly.

Brandon laughed at his younger brother. “There is no need to worry the opening feast is not for another 5 days now. We will be there with time to spare brother I swear it.”

Benjen settled down at his brother's reassurances that he would not be missing any of the festivities of the tournament. “Will you be competing in the joust or the melee at all Brandon?”

“I think I shall limit myself to just the joust, afterall it would be rude to take all of Lord When’s gold for myself,” was Brandon's cocky reply.

“What makes you so sure you could win any of the events?” Lyanna venomously cut in. Brandon sighed her tone made it clear that she was still angry at him from last night.

“Why are you so snippy?” Benjen questioned Lyanna. She merely huffed disdainfully before falling back to ride along Howland Reed who was a few horse lengths behind. Benjen fixed Brandon with a questioning look.

“Pay her no mind she is angry at me from something I said last night.” Lyanna shot a glare at him at the mention of last night. Brandon ignored it rather than escalate the situation. Benjen then turned to Ned and Robert, “What about the two of you? Will you be competing in anything?”

“You are looking at the future champion of the melee right here Benjen,” came Robert's cocksure reply. “Mark my words you will see me lift this hammer in victory come time for the melee.” Robert lifted his massive hammer over his head as if giving Benjen a preview of it all.

Brandon laughed at Robert's nonchalance towards the melee, “That is one event I would not be so confident about, I heard talk at the inn last night that Ser Arthur Dayne will be competing in the Melee. Some say his skill with a sword rivals that of Aemon the Dragonknight. To hear tell of it he has no rival amongst the living in swordsmanship.”

“Well then I would say it is a good thing that I will be fighting with my hammer and not a sword is it not?” Robert grinned at his own wit. “ I might be more worried about all this if we were fighting a duel, but not in the melee. A fighter with his notoriety will be attacked by at least five or six at a time.”

Benjen looked at him with wide eyes, “You seem really confident.”

“You have to be, if you go into a fight expecting to lose you will freeze up.” Brandon was amused at how Benjen was hanging on to every word coming out of Robert's mouth.

Brandon looked at Ned, “And what about you? Will you be competing in anything or will you just sit on your arse in the stands with all the women?”

“I suppose I will try my hand at the tilt. If only to see how I stand up to all the legends competing,” was Ned’s casual reply. Brandon smiled at hearing Ned would be competing at the tourney. It would be good exposure for House Stark if there two eldest sons had quality showings at such a large tourney.

“If you are going to be riding in the tilts then you will have to find a maiden to to give you her favor,” Brandon told Ned with a wolfish grin. Ned blushed at the thought of asking a lady for her favour.

“No he will not,” Lyanna interrupted, deciding to finally rejoin the conversation to spare Ned from Brandon's humor. “He shall wear my favour and joust for my honor.”

Ned smiled at Lyanna, “Thank you Lyanna I only hope that I may be able to live up to this great honor you bestow upon me.”

At this point Brandon interjected, “You wound me sister, that you would give you favour to Ned rather than me your older brother. I shall have to challenge him to a duel for the honor,” Lyanna rolled her eyes at Brandon's fake outrage.

“I suppose you will just have to ask your betrothed for her favour then,” pointing out that Lady Catelyn would be in attendance and it would be an affront to her if Brandon wore a favour from anyone else.

“Ah yes,” Brandon stroked his beard ponderously. “I seem to keep forgetting her, Benjen you should make a note of her being there and you can remind whenever I seem to be forgetting that fact”

Benjen’s jaw dropped in outrage, “That is hardly fair why should I…” he started out before noticing Brandon, Ned, and Robert holding back their laughter. “Oh I get it.” The three older men burst out laughing at his embarrassment.

 

The Road was becoming quite congested as they drew within sight of the massive castle that had been built by Harren the black. Despite the mismatch look of the castle, with parts in disrepair and other parts having been recently rebuilt, It was still a most impressive sight. The castle easily dwarfed Winterfell which was the largest castle that Brandon had seen previously.

To the east of the monstrous castle they could see the fairgrounds that had been set up for the tourney. The sheer number of tents and banners flying at the foot of Harrenhal almost made it seem as if the castle was under siege. “It would seem as if every house from the Neck to the Summer Sea is represented in that sea of tents,” Brandon said in astonishment.

Those he was riding with simply nodded in stunned silence. Ned and Robert had been to tournaments before but non had even come close in terms of shear size. Their party had come to a standstill due to the impromptu marketplace that had sprung up with vendors simply setting their carts down and selling their goods from the side of the road. Eventually their group navigated through the throngs and were making it to the field of tents when a steward caught sight of them and ran up to them.

He bowed to them all before speaking, “My Lords Stark, my Lady Stark, my Lord Baratheon may I welcome you on behalf of Lord Walter Whent to Harrenhal. If it pleases you may I guide you to a spot we have reserved for you.”

“Of course but what of the rest of our party?” Brandon inquired of the man.

“I shall have a man guide your servants and men-at-arms to an area allocated for them after they have gotten all of you settled.”

“Sounds well enough to me lead on,” Brandon spurred his horse on to follow the steward. The spot that he led them to was a central location halfway between the lists and Harrenhal's gates meaning they were not to far from either the jousting or feasting. It seemed that house Whent had organized a prime location for the wardens of each kingdom, with the exception of house Greyjoy, organized in an oval around a common ground

There were banners placed equidistant reserving spots. Directly across from the Stark's the Lannisters had already set up lavish crimson tents with a golden lion flying above them. To their left was house Tyrell where foppish lord with a ridiculous mustache was directing servants on how to erect the tent and making a mess of it. To the Lannisters right the sun and spear flew over a pair of colorful silk tents. To the left of the Stark banner flew the eagle of house Arryn flew over a single tent meaning Jon Arryn’s heir Elbert Arryn had already arrived. Finally a pair of large but plain tents were set up beneath the black stag of Baratheon. Just then Brandon saw a Stern faced youth almost of an age with Ned and Robert exit one of the tents.

“Stannis you sour faced fool how have you been,” Robert roared at the sight of his brother.

As Robert got reacquainted with his younger brother, Brandon set to having their tents set up. When Brandon told some of the men-at-arms to help set up Howland's tent the steward stepped in.

“My lord we have a separate place nearby for your servants they do not to have their tents taking up your space.”

Brandon turned angrily to the man, “He is no servant he is Howland Reed heir to Greywater Watch.”

A look of disgust crossed the stewards face “Ah, a crannogmen, regardless my lord this area is for wardens of each of the seven kingdoms not lesser bannerman.”

He bristled and the emphasis the man had put on lesser, He got close enough to the man that the steward had to crane his neck to look into Brandon’s eye. “Are you going to really argue with me on who may stay in my allotted space?”

The man stepped back and nervously wiped his brow, “Of course not, I was out of line. My apologies my lord.” The man made a hasty bow before beating an even hastier retreat.

“Thank you Brandon, but you really did not need to do that for me,” Howland said in slight embarrassment.

“Nonsense, I did it for myself. If I had not done this for you how could I expect you to respond if I ever call the banners?” Brandon slapped Howland on the back.

The short man smiled at him, “Regardless, I appreciate what you did.”

Brandon waved him off, “Do not mention it.”

Once their tents had been set up the party went their separate ways. Howland wandered off to see the the mummers at the fairgrounds. Lyanna had dragged Benjen off to go riding along the God’s Eye. Meanwhile Brandon and Ned set of to the registrar in order to enter their names for the joust. When they arrived the same steward who had shown them to their campsite ushered them to the front of the line for the registrar. He introduced them, “These two are Brandon and Eddard Stark, eldest sons of Lord Rickard Stark Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. They shall be entering their names for the joust.”

“Very well, Best of luck to you both my lords,” the registrar made a note on a piece of parchment marking their entry. Then waving a hand in dismissal.

“Excuse me sir but would you mind telling me how many have entered in the joust?” Brandon inquired of the steward as they walked away from the registrar's booth.

“Almost thirteen score my lord,” the steward responded. Brandon whistled at the figure.

“How are they ever going to get through such a large number?” Brandon asked incredulously.

“There are eight tilts set up in the fairgrounds my lord, the competition will be divided into sixteen groups of sixteen men. Over the course of the first four days you will face every man in your group once. After that a champion will be named from each group based on who has the most victories of the group, the tiebreaker is the victor of the the head to head between those who were tied.” After explaining the rules the steward bid them good day before no doubt going off to find members of other great houses to assist.

“Well it certainly is convenient at times having him around,” Eddard remarked about the steward.

Brandon laughed at that, “Yes it would seem that Lord Whent is using the tourney to Garner favor with the most powerful houses in Westeros. I am certainly not going to complain about it.”

As the two made their way towards their tents Brandon suddenly stopped remembering something, “I had almost forgotten, follow me Ned.” Brandon turned and led Ned in the direction of the makeshift corrals that had been setup to accommodate the herds of horses that had been brought to Harrenhal.

“I know that you have not made it home to Winterfell yet but seeing that nag you rode here from the Eyrie I decided to give you your welcome home present a little early.” At this Brandon stopped at a corral that housed only one horse. It was a tall well muscled stallion. Its coat was inky black except for a white star on his brow. “He is the pride of Lord Ryswell’s herd, a finer piece of horseflesh you would be hard pressed to find. Quite fiery though, throws almost everyone that tries to ride him, and does not play nice with others,” and as if to prove Brandon's point the Stallion bit the flank of a horse that had gotten to close to the fence between their corrals.

Ned laughed at seeing this, “It seems as if you have gotten me the horse version of yourself as a gift.”

“I think that I should be offended at what your comparison implies, but I am afraid that it is to accurate for me to deny,” Brandon replied with a laugh. 

Ned climbed onto the coral and whistled to draw the stallions attention. It approached Ned cautiously ears facing forward focussing on Ned’s every movement ready to react at a moment's notice. Ned held his hand out for the horse to catch his scent. After a minute the stallion seemed to lose interest in Ned and go back to trotting along the fence line between corrals.

Ned jumped down from the fence and turned to Brandon, “He is one of the finest horses I have ever seen. I hardly think that I am worthy of such a gift.”

Brandon shook his head, “You are more than worthy of this gift Ned, consider him my way of telling that I will always have a place for alongside me in Winterfell.”

“Thank you Brandon you will never know how much your words mean to me.” 

Brandon and Ned spent the rest of that day and the next getting reacquainted and riding through around the nearby country so that Ned and ‘the Stallion,’ for that was what he was calling it as he had yet to come up with a name fitting it, could get used to each other before they entered the lists together. Brandon and Ned traded tales of their time in their foster homes as they would ride. Brandon enjoyed his time spent with Ned immensely. Times like these he wished that the neither had been sent off to be fostered so they could have grown up together in Winterfell, where Starks belonged. The two were in Brandon's tent along with Benjen getting ready for the opening feast when they were interrupted by Lyanna helping a bruised and bloodied Howland into the tent. Brandon and Ned both jumped to their feet to help the crannogmen. “What happened to you?” Brandon asked.

The injured man grunted as he sat down, “I was attacked by three squires from behind, I did not even get a chance to fight back they attacked me from behind with a blow to the head,” Howland said in frustration. “Fortunately for me, Lyanna happened by rode them down and beat them off with a practice sword.” Howland gave a small laugh at that, but winced and grabbed at his ribs

“Cravens,” Brandon growled. “Who were the squires I will have them all flogged.” He had begun pacing like a caged animal in anger.

“Thank you for the offer but I can not have you fighting all my battles Brandon. Besides that I have no clue who they were I saw no house sigils on them.”

Benjen spoke up, “Come to the feast with us then,” Brandon looked at him in confusion, “The squires will most likely be at the feast we might be able to put a name to their faces.” Brandon nodded in agreement to Benjen's idea.

Howland shook his head in a negative manner, “I am in no shape to be attending a great feast.”

“Nonsense Howland,” Lyanna interjected. “You will go to the feast and that is final, now if you will excuse me I must get ready for the feast.” She turned and walked out of the tent after she finished talking.

Ned laughed at Howland's shocked face, “Well I would say that settles it then, you are going to the feast tonight.”

Howland grinned, “I suppose you are right, I saw the way she handled a sword and I do not plan on being at the receiving end.”

“That would be our Lyanna. She was never one for the tales of Southron knights and princesses. She always seemed to rather do the rescuing herself,” Brandon concluded ponderously.

Benjen stirred everyone from their reverie, “We should probably get ready, Lyanna’s mean when she is kept waiting.” Benjen's words spurred the men into action for fear of Lyanna's wrath.


	4. Benjen & Eddard

Benjen & Eddard

Benjen:

As they approached the entrance to the Hall of the Hundred Hearths a herald announced their entrance, “May I present Brandon of house Stark, Eddard of house Stark, Lyanna of house Stark, and their bannerman Howland of house Reed.” Once they were announced a page came and escorted to their table. Their table was directly in front of the head table keeping to Lord Whent’s pattern of spoiling the great houses. Benjen was seated between Howland and Lyanna. Benjen looked around in wonder of the vast hall. The size was needed however as all the nobility of Westeros seemed to be inside the hall.

When most of the nobility had arrived Lord Whent stood up and a herald called everyone's attention to his lord. “Lords and Ladies,” Lord Whent began, “It is my great privilege to host all of here tonight in my seat of Harrenhal. I am pleased to see faces from the greatest houses in Westeros. We have Lord Tywin Lannister’s children Jaime and Cersei, Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord jon Arryn’s heir Elbert Arryn, Prince Oberyn Martell, the children of Lord Rickard Stark; Brandon, Eddard, Lyanna, and Benjen Stark, and finally the elder sons of Steffon Baratheon Robert and Stannis Baratheon. I would like to personally thank all of you for gracing my halls with your presence. Most Importantly I would like to thank the crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and his wife Elia Martell of Dorne,” At this the royal couple stood up in recognition of the applause. Once the applause died down Lord Whent continued his oration, “It is my greatest wish for this tourney to be known as the greatest in the entire history of Westeros. I believe that I have done my fair part providing the location and the sizable purse,” his joke was received with laughter from the assembled nobility. “Now I call on all among you who are competing in the the events of this tourney to do your part in making it so this tourney will be talked about for generations. I would like to introduce all of you to our reigning queen of love, my daughter, Alira Whent,” a blushing girl of about fifteen years stood up accepting the applause of the crowd. “If you are thinking crowning another I must warn you that you will find it quite hard for her crown is defended by her four older brothers, and my own brother Oswell Whent,” at this Walter Whent pointed at his younger brother who was in white armor of the kingsguard.

Brandon was growing bored with the lord’s pontificating and instead turned to Howland who was sitting next to him. “Do you see any of the squires that ambushed you earlier?”

Howland leaned towards Benjen before responding, “I’ve only seen one of them so far. He is serving wine to one of the Frey’s,” Howland pointed out a weasel faced squire that was obviously one of Lord Frey’s extensive brood. “It figures one would be a Frey,” Howland continued, “The have fought us crannogmen for centuries and believe me when I say there is no love lost between our houses.”

“How do you plan on getting your revenge against the cowards?” Benjen asked, when Howland shrugged his shoulders in response Benjen continued, “If you would like I could find you some armor, you could challenge either them or their masters in the lists as a mystery knight.” Benjen smiled at his thrilling idea of a mystery knight riding down the masters of the cowardly squires.

“That is a fine plan Benjen were it not for the fact I have no discernable skill with the lance and I am a passable rider at best. They would most likely unhorse me and make my shame all the greater.” Benjen seemed to deflate a little at having his plan fall apart so quickly. Howland reassured him, “Where I a more fearsome warrior, like your brothers then your plan would have worked, but regardless I thank you for the offer.”

At that time Lord Whent was finally winding down his speech, “...and so without further ado bring out the food and the drink and let us start this feast.”

Hearing mention of the drink Robert stood and cheered, “I will drink to that!” Eliciting laughs from the assembled host. A swarm of servants came streaming in from side doors carrying varying courses and pitchers of wines from Dorne and the Reach. Benjen had his cup filled with a dry Dornish Red. It was by far superior to the wine that he had during the odd feast at Winterfell. Pretty soon Benjen had finished his glass and was motioning for a servant to refill his cup. Seeing this his brother Ned leaned over, “Careful Benjen, the Dornish wines have a way of sneaking up on you and before you know it you will be quite inebriated.”

Brandon joined in on the conversation, “Do you not think that you are being a little hypocritical lecturing Benjen about the dangers of drinking given what you have told me of yours and Roberts night at the inn.”  
“I hardly think that you can compare what happens at an inn to what happens in this hall before three quarters of Westeros’ nobility,” Ned refuted.

“Aye you have a point, Benjen you are to limit yourself to only three cups of wine no more do you hear me?” Brandon ordered. Benjen rolled his eyes but still nodded his head in agreement with Brandon. The feast carried on with for a grand total of twelve courses. Benjen barely took anything from each of the courses yet he was still finding himself quite full by the time the deserts were being cleared from the tables. Conversation were being struck up as everyone was waiting for tables to be cleared and moved out of the hall to make room for musicians and dancing. Brandon and Ned had made their way over to a table that had the only other northmen in attendance; House Dustin, Hornwood, Mormont, and Manderly. Robert was in the middle of a drinking competition, which judging on his opponents swaying would not last for much longer. Benjen turned to Howland, “Have you found the other squires yet?” Benjen asked Howland. Hearing the topic of conversation Lyanna leaned in to be a part of it.

“Yes they made it easy they were all together just a while ago. There is one,” Howland pointed out a stocky youth, “He serves a knight from House Blount. The final one is there,” Howland pointed at a lany youth who was attending a younger son of Lord Haigh.  
“What are your plans for them?” Lyanna pondered.

“I do not know really, I suppose it will have to be quite sneaky in order to live up to my reputation as a crannogmen though,”

“You can sneak them a concoction that will make them shite themselves.” Benjen chimed in enthusiastically.

Howland laughed at the idea but ultimately shook his head no, “I need it to be something that will let them know that it was me.” The three kept discussing plans for revenge until enough tables were finally cleared away and Lord Whent stood and addressed the nobles once again, “Now that the feasting is done I believe that it is time for merriment and dance. Our noble prince Rhaegar has offered to start the music tonight by singing and playing a song on his harp. Benjen rolled his eyes at the idea of man doing something so feminine. As Rhaegar began playing a slow mournful tune. Growing bored with the mournful tune Benjen decided to people watch instead. He saw Brandon and Ned talking and joking with Brandon’s foster brother Willam Dustin. He saw Lord Wyman Manderly still feasting long after all others had finished eating. Robert had proven victorious in his drinking contest his opponent passed out on the table mug still in his hand.

As Rhaegar’s ballad was finishing Benjen saw a sight the made him bark in laughter like Brandon. He would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes, his sister Lyanna wiping tears from her eyes because of a sad song, “Gods Lyanna, I did not take you for the soft southern lady that cries at a prince’s sad song.”

Lyanna turned to Benjen and her eyes immediately hardened, “Shut your mouth you arse,” she all but shouted at him. She grabbed a full cup of Dornish Red and dumped the contents on Benjen’s head. The youngest Stark stood there sputtering in shock as Lyanna got up and walked out the hall. Benjen started blushing furiously when he noticed that most everyone in the hall was staring at him laughing. He stood up and walked out of the hall with as much dignity as he could, cursing Lyanna’s name the whole way back to his tent.

Eddard:

Ned had been conversing with some of the northern nobility that was present commotion near the high table. What he saw made him sigh and rub his temples. Even Brandon looked exasperated at the sight of their wine soaked brother and their sister that was walking away in a huff. “Leave it to a Stark to cause a scene huh Brandon,” Willam Dustin said nudging Brandon.

“That is hardly fair Willam, I never caused a scene like that in front of half of them realms nobility,” Brandon rebutted. “I think we can all agree that no one relays these events to father,” Brandon said looking at all of the Northern Lords present. They laughed and agreed to keep these events from their leige lord.

“Should we do something about them?” Ned asked Brandon.

“What could we do about it?” Brandon questioned in return, “ Do you see us getting Lyanna to apologize, and Benjen is not a child he does not need our help changing his clothes. No let us enjoy ourselves for the time being.” The music started up again, and it was not long before Brandon decided to go and find Catelyn and dance a few turns with her. Ned had never been one for dancing, It was not that he was to shy to talk to women, but rather that as the second son he had always felt rather inadequate as a potential suitor. Anything that he would ever have would be charity from his brother, or maybe Robert. So instead of joining the dancing Ned found himself off to the side talking with Willam Dustin as he was just recently married to Barbrey, formerly Ryswell, and as she was not there Willam felt no reason to dance. 

“You must be worn out from keeping all of your brothers and sister in check.” Willam stated more than asked Ned.

“Brandon has been remarkably well behaved surprisingly,” Ned answered. “Mayhaps it is the presence of Lady Catelyn that cools his wolfs blood. But you saw the troubles that the other two can get up to when they are left alone.” He added dryly.  
Willam laughed at Ned’s woes. The two continued chatting idly while watching the dancing in front of them. Brandon was dancing with a slightly pudgy girl with auburn hair that Brandon assumed was Catelyn’s sister Lysa Tully. Lord Mace Tyrell was dancing with his wife Alerie Tyrell. The golden twins of Tywin were dancing with each other. Ned’s eye was caught by the lady dancing with Ser Arthur Dayne. She was a slim fair skinned beauty with dark hair and violet hair. Her features made Ned believe that she must be some relation to the famed Sword of the Morning who she was dancing with. Ned shook his head there was no point in a second son dreaming of a woman of such beauty and high birth. She would marry the first born son of a great lord who could give her the proper comforts that she was due.

“You know the way a dance works you have to actually ask her to dance,” Ned started, not having noticed his brother come up behind him.  
“What are you talking about Brandon?”

“The girl you are staring at like a lovesick puppy Ned that is who,” Brandon was smirking at Ned knowingly. 

Ned rolled his eyes, “I was not staring at her like a lovesick puppy.”

“Ah but you admit that you were staring at Lady Ashara Dayne do you?”

Frustrated with the line of questioning Ned turned to face his brother, “What is it you want from me Brandon?” 

“I want you to have some fun Ned let loose. You do not have to take everything in life so seriously. Ask the girl to dance the worst that could happen is that she turns you down and sicks her brother on you,” Brandon added the last bit to loosen Ned up and make him laugh.

“I have no desire to dance Brandon,” Ned tried to tell his brother who was not having it.

“Ned you can go and ask the girl to dance or I will ask her on your behalf,” Brandon threatened Ned. 

“Fine, fine I will ask her if it will stop all of your badgering.” Ned got up from the bench he was sitting on. He straightened his doublet and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles only to stop when he heard snickering from Brandon. Ned refused to look back because he could see Brandon's smirk perfectly clear in his mind.

He told himself that Brandon was right, the worst that could happen is she turned him away. Lady Ashara was in a conversation with the Princess Elia when Ned approached. Ned cleared his throat, “Excuse me your grace,” Ned bowed to Elia, “I was wondering if I could borrow Lady Ashara for a dance,” he turned to Ashara, “That is if it is a alright with you my lady.” Ned could feel his collar getting warm but resisted the urge to tug at it.

Princess Elia looked at Lady Ashara as if to say it is up to you. “I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage good ser. You know my name but I do not know yours.” Ashara said to Ned.

Ned’s collar got even hotter and he was thankful for the warmth given off by all the hearths. He could pass off his embarrassment as being flushed from the heat. Ned apologized, “Pardon me your grace, my lady, my name is Eddard Stark.”  
Ashara smiled at him, “I would love to take a turn around the dance floor with you Eddard Stark.” Ashara got up from her seat and Ned led her to the dance floor. As the musicians began a new song Ned and Ashara began dancing. “May I ask what has brought you to this tourney, are you competing in the tourney?” inquired Ashara.

“Please call me Ned, most everyone does,” he implored of her, “and I will be competing in the joust.”

“Ah so do you seek to take Lady Alira’s crown for anyone in specific Ned?” Ashara queried.

“No,” Ned laughed, “I think there is little hope for me to be the champion of the joust. If by some miracle I found myself as champion I would present the crown to Lyanna my sister.”

Ashara smiled at this, “Ah you mean the fiery one who dumped her wine on who I am assuming is your younger brother.”

Ned cleared his throat, “Ah yes, that was not the best representation of house Stark, but yes the very same sister.”

Ashara laughed at Ned’s embarrassment, “I am a woman with two brothers Ned I perfectly understand what drove her to dumping wine on your younger brother.”

Just then the song ended. Ned shuffled his feet awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Before he could decide however, Ser Arthur Dayne approached. Getting Ashara’s attention he told her, “Princess Elia is feeling unwell and wishes for you to accompany her back to her rooms.”

Ned thought he saw disappointment flash across Ashara's features, but it was gone before he could be sure. “Very well,” she flashed a smile at Ned, “I enjoyed our dance and best of luck to you in the joust.” Then she turned and followed her brother out of the hall.

Ned starred after her for a second before turning to go find his brother. When he looked around he could not find Brandon and noticed that the Hall was slowly emptying. Spotting Willam Dustin he inquired of him, “Have you seen Brandon or know where he has gone.”

“He left with Lady Catelyn to take a walk around the grounds.” Willam informed him.

“Lord Hoster let them go off alone?” Ned asked incredulously.

Willam laughed, “Gods no, he has heard some tale Brandon's reputation I am sure. He insisted they take Lysa as well to chaperone.”

“Ah very wise of him,” Ned noted. “Well I think I shall retire for the night. I will see you tomorrow Wilam.”

“I shall see you tomorrow then,” Willam said as he gave Ned a wave goodbye.

 

Ned was in his tent getting ready to retire for the night when Brandon slipped into the tent, “Well if it is not the lovestruck Eddard Stark.”

Ned shook his head at his brother, “I danced with the girl once Brandon, yet you seem to be making some great affair of it.”

“I am just so proud of my little brother, is all. Wooing a lovely Dornish woman. Though you must be careful Ned, Dornish women run hot and have burnt many a more experienced man.” Brandon mock warned.

“What do you know of Dornish women? You have been south of the Neck all of four times, three being to see your betrothed, and the final being this tourney,” Ned accused Brandon.

“Word travels for those who are listening,” Brandon said in a mock mysterious voice.

“What you really mean is you have listened to too many sailors tales of their lovers in every port.”

“You know me too well brother.” Brandon said letting loose a bark of laughter.

Ned looked at him with a deadpan face, “Get out you curr I need to get some sleep tonight.”

Brandon left the tent, but not before getting the last word in, “Tell the Lady Ashara I said hello when you see her in your dreams.”

**Author's Note:**

> At the beginning of this story I’m trying to stay as close as I can to canon with the ages of the characters and this is about what I got from my 5 minutes of research (read:google)  
> Rickard: 41 years old  
> Lyarra: 39 years old  
> Brandon: 19 years old  
> Ned: 17 years old  
> Lyanna: 15 years old  
> Benjen: 14 years old


End file.
